


True Aim

by Zinnith



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, But with the potential for a fix-it, Dad!clint, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Go home Marvel you're drunk, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, I have to be at work in eight hours why am I still awake?, I'm ignoring season 5 of Agents of Shield because fuck you that's why, Not A Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 22:26:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14506806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zinnith/pseuds/Zinnith
Summary: In the aftermath of the Infinity War, Clint Barton takes what's left of his family and goes to find the Avengers.





	True Aim

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a thing. You might not like the thing but I had to.

At some point, for some reason, someone designed a child seat built to fit into the cockpit of a quinjet. Clint doesn’t know the designer or the reason, but he owns one. (A child seat, that is. The quinjet isn’t technically  _ his _ , but it somehow managed to go missing in the aftermath of the whole SHIELD-is-secretly-Hydra-confusion, and if it ended up stashed away not too far from Clint’s property in case of emergencies, well, what the powers-that-be don’t know won’t hurt them.)

 

You don’t get to be a spy without some serious compartmentalization skills, so Clint very carefully does not think about what just happened and instead focuses on the two goals he’s set for himself.

 

  1. Keep Nate Safe.
  2. Find out whoever is responsible for the current situation and kick their ass.



 

He’s not stupid enough to think that he’ll be able to achieve either of those two goals on his own, which is the reason for why, as soon as the initial shock wore off, he bundled up his child ( _ his  _ only  _ child now, shit fuck, don’t think about it, don’t  _ think  _ about it _ ) and his hidden weapons cache and set a course for upstate New York.

 

Every radio frequency is filled with panic, no-one seems to know what’s going on, but the gist of it is that what just happened in Iowa has happened all over the fucking  _ planet _ , half the population of Earth up in ashes ( _ don’t think about it _ ). Tony Stark might not be Clint’s favourite person in the world, but at least you can always trust him to have answers.

 

Clint figures it’s a fifty fifty chance that giving  _ Hawkeye  _ as his callsign when he approaches the Avengers facility will get him shot down at sight, but to his surprise he’s cleared for landing with no fuss at all. Clint unbuckles Nate from his seat and slings the My Little Pony-backpack with the essentials over one shoulder, deciding to leave his own gear in the quinjet for now. He’s probably more likely to get a warm welcome if he shows up carrying a kid instead of a bow.

 

“Did we forget anything?” he asks Nate, lifting him down from the seat. “Got Blanky? Are you going to finish that drink?”

 

Nate shakes his head, tightens his hold on Blanky and hands Clint his untouched juice box. It’s worrying. Usually, you can’t get the kid to shut up, but he’s barely said one word since it happened. He just keeps staring at Clint with big, stunned eyes, like his daddy might disappear right in front of him as well ( _ don’t think about it _ ).

 

The place is so empty it echoes. Clint can’t see any people, but has to raise an eyebrow at the only other craft he can see on the tarmac. He’s never seen a plane like that in his life, and suspects it’s probably not of Earth origin.

 

“See that?” he says, pointing it out to Nate. “Cool, huh? Think we’ll get to ride in it?”

 

Nate looks, but he doesn’t seem impressed, just scared and confused. He clutches Clint’s hand harder and brings Blanky up to his mouth to suck on a corner like he does when he’s anxious. Clint can sympathize. If he didn’t have to be a dad right now, he’d be panicking all over the place. But he does have to be a dad, so instead he picks Nate up.

 

“Okay, so that’s a no on the spaceship, let’s go find daddy’s friends instead.”

 

He really hopes he’s got at least some friends here. Hell, if the annihilation of like four billion people isn’t enough to get Stark and Cap to kiss and make up, Clint can’t imagine what will.

 

The inside of the compound is about as empty as the outside, but Stark’s AI lets him in the door without prompting and informs him that everyone is gathered in the lounge by the living quarters. Clint wants to ask who  _ everyone  _ is, but he figures he deserves at least a few more moments in a world where his best friend is potentially alive, so he keeps his mouth shut and heads through the deserted corridors.

 

He stops just outside the lounge, almost afraid to look inside, but if he doesn’t he’ll be standing around here all night, so he steels himself and walks up to the door. Nat is the first one he lays eyes on, thank  _ God _ . There are Cap and Stark, sitting side by side on the couch, staring numbly into space. Banner (When did he return? No-one tells Clint anything anymore.) is curled up in a chair with his arms wrapped tightly around himself. Thor is standing in front of the window with his back to the room, broad shoulders slumped in misery. Rhodes is leaning against the bar, looking exhausted, and a weird blue-skinned chick Clint has never seen before is sitting in a corner, radiating suspicion and hostility.

 

Clint hitches Nate up a bit in his arms, steps into the room, and says, “Hey everyone. Cap, what died on your face?” because making terrible jokes in the face of total disaster is what he does. Usually, it would earn him either a smile or a lecture, at the very least some advanced eye rolling, but Steve’s face is completely blank, like the quip didn’t even register.

 

Nat gets up and comes to greet him. “Barnes and Wilson,” she says, by way of explanation, and Clint winces. Yeah, that’d do it. He also notes that she’s sticking to last names, a way to distance herself from the loss.

 

“Fu...udge,” he says, because he’s holding a very impressionable three-year-old who likes to soak up bad words like a sponge.

 

“What about...” Nat asks. She doesn’t have to finish the sentence. Clint shakes his head.

 

“Just us.”

 

“You want to…?”

 

“Not yet.”

 

She nods in Nate’s direction. “Can I?”

 

The last thing Clint wants to do right now is let go of his son, but this is Natasha, so instead he turns to Nate and asks, “Hey kiddo, does Auntie Nat get a hug?”

 

Nate seems to consider this for a moment, then he twists in Clint's hold, reaching for her and wrapping his small arms around her neck. Blanky falls to the floor so Clint transfers the kid to Natasha and bends down to retrieve it. Nat meets his eyes over Nate's shoulder.

 

“Go debrief,” she says, nodding towards the rest of the group. Team? Are they a team again? Are these the only ones left? “I'll keep him occupied.”

 

The refusal is resting on the tip of his tongue at the thought of letting Nate out of his sight, but Clint also doesn't want his young son to be involved in the discussion that has to happen right now, so he gives her a grateful look and heads towards the couch. Stark gives him a weary once-over and doesn't say a word about the My Little Pony backpack and the ratty purple fleece blanket he's wielding instead of bow and arrow, and that's another sure sign of how completely screwed they are.

 

The next twenty minutes are... hard. Clint listens, tries to wrap his head around what he’s hearing, puts all the names away for later. Wanda, that’s going to hurt like hell once he allows himself to feel all this ( _ don’t think about it _ ). He didn’t really know Spider-Man, but if Stark didn’t already look like a stiff breeze would knock him over, Clint would’ve socked him one because he had no idea the little twerp was  _ that  _ young.

 

As for Clint, well, the fact that he’s here with only Nate in tow speaks for itself and to his gratitude no-one asks for details. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle that. 

 

Then, Nate starts squirming in Nat’s lap, wailing “I want mommy, I want mommy!” Clint goes to pick him up and just holds him, muttering something nonsensical about how everything’s going to be all right, they’ll be okay ( _ I want her too don'tthinkaboutit _ ), they’ll be fine.

 

Nate cries until he falls asleep on Clint’s shoulder, exhausted. There’s a wet patch of tears and snot on Clint’s shirt and it’s making his own eyes burn until he has to swallow and blink rapidly to stop from bawling himself. Those are his  _ child’s  _ tears. ( _ Do. Not. Think. About it, asshole, you can’t afford to think about it yet. _ ) 

 

“So,” he says, clearing his throat to make his voice come out a little less raw. “What now? I’m itching for something to shoot at, so what’s the plan?” 

 

The remaining members of the Avengers all look at each other and no-one seems to know what to say. 

 

Steve stares at his own hands and mutters, “We should… get something to eat. Sam always used to say it helps… we should get something to eat.” It’s like he’s trying desperately to find at least some tiny little way to take action, find a foothold again. He’s grey in the face, the first time Clint has seen him look beaten. 

 

“Right, that’s a start, that’s something we can actually do.” Stark makes a motion as if to rub his hands together, but it’s quickly aborted. His pallor speaks of considerable blood-loss, and he doesn’t seem to be able to get up. “Friday, do we have anywhere for Barton and Mini-Barton to sleep?” The AI chirps an affirmative.

 

Clint goes to find a bed for Nate, but the moment he puts the kid down and starts to tuck him in, Nate blinks his eyes open, grabs Clint’s arm, and refuses to let go until Clint picks him up again. He falls back asleep in seconds, breathing softly against Clint’s neck and, yeah, okay. He didn’t want to leave his baby alone anyway.

 

By the time they’ve returned to the lounge, food has appeared from somewhere and everyone's sitting around the sofa table, picking at whatever is closest. The blue chick (her name is Nebula, she’s some kind of cyborg and her daddy-issues are apparently worse that all of the Avengers’ put together) is sniffing a bowl of hummus like she expects it to bite her, but no-one seems to have much energy left to transport food from the table into their mouths.

 

It’s a little bit like the aftermath of the Chitauri, except this time it’s not exhausted celebration, but bitter defeat.

 

Clint can’t bring himself to sit down. He paces instead, rocks Nate gently in his arms to ensure he won’t wake up. After a little while Nat gets up to walk beside them, hand-feeding Clint a sandwich and completely ignoring his token protest. Her stony expression might fool someone who doesn’t know her very well, but it doesn’t fool Clint. She’s working hard to keep herself together right now, and if looking after his sorry ass makes her feel better, well, he can let her do that. 

 

There isn’t much conversation, which makes the sound of footsteps approaching in the hallway outside that much louder. Stark looks up, clearly unnerved. “I thought I sent everyone home, Friday, who…”

 

He doesn’t get any further before the door opens to reveal a heart-achingly familiar figure. 

 

Clint isn’t surprised. The identity of SHIELD’s new director has been the worst kept secret in the intelligence community for years. Still, the sight of him makes Clint feel just a tiny little bit lighter. 

 

Phil has aged. His hair has more grey in it, the wrinkles around his eyes are deeper, he’s looking worn around the edges, burdened by the same grief and loss as everyone else ( _ don’t think about it _ ), but he’s alive and he’s  _ here _ .

 

With everyone’s eyes on him, Phil walks up to the group (The team, Clint is pretty sure they became a team again the moment Phil Coulson entered the building) reaches inside his jacket, and takes out a folder. “Ladies,” he nods at Nat and Nebula. “Gentlemen,” another nod to the rest of them. “I have something you’ll want to hear.”

 

Hawkeye takes his seat around the table, cradles his sleeping son in his arms, and sets his sights for the next target.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm still reeling from Infinity War, but the realization that all the original Avengers were still alive by the end of it made me write this little thing, because it kind of feels like we've gone full circle. Also, since the Russos once again decided to ignore Hawkeye's existence, I felt like I needed to remedy that at least. 
> 
> Oh, yeah, and Season five of Agents of Shield is stupid so that didn't happen and Coulson has spent his time researching infinity stones and magic and stuff and isn't dying, so _there_.
> 
> ETA: Oh, and I realize now that this might come off as pretty Anti-Tony. Personally, I'm very fond of him, but after the events of Civil War, Clint doesn't like him much.
> 
> ETA2: OMG, I totally forgot about Rocket. I'm guessing he's commandeered Tony's workshop where he's building weapons of mass destruction and hissing and growling at anyone who dares approach.


End file.
